


Gold as cold as iron

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A little, Angst, F/M, Sleeping with the enemy, With a capital A, hostage au, i jumbled the canon timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 10:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Myrcella ends up being Robb’s Lannister prisoner as he moves south to free his father, and their relationship isn’t as simple as he’d like it to be.





	Gold as cold as iron

The click of the door was loud in the darkness. Robb took an evening breath as he door shut behind him.

The air in the riverlands was thick and hot, even inside Riverrun’s castle. He missed the thin, cold air that would grace his lungs at home. 

_Home._

He’d always tell himself soon he’d be back in Winterfell. There was just a short list of things he _must_ do before that happens. He must get his sisters, Sansa and Arya, and he must free his father. His cause was simple, reunite the Starks and return to Winterfell— to Bran and Rickon…  

Robb didn’t want to picture little Bran in that giant, direwolf stone chair that only their father could completely fill. Robb had a hard enough time being Lord of Winterfell, his little brother should never have to suffer the responsibility…

“My lord?” 

Her voice crept up on him, though he had been the one standing there in the humid darkness. Robb swallowed his guilt back down his throat. He knew this was wrong. To sleep with the enemy, it was shameful. 

But his libido withstood through any logic and reasoning.

He caught those green eyes glinting in the darkness. Myrcella Baratheon sat up in the bed she was sent to when they first came to Riverrun. This room, by all means, served as her prison cell, and Robb visited her in it time and time again (despite his better judgment). This wasn’t camp, this was his mother’s home ground and he still snuck around. Only instead of shackles he was unlocking a door. 

She laid over the blankets and furs, a sheer shift clung to her. Her hair offered her the most modesty, long golden tendrils hung over her shoulders. Not that Robb minded, he knew quite intimately what laid beneath that shift and fine gold hair. Her body was his secret and he took painstaking measures to keep it that way. _She was worth it though._

Robb stepped closer, undoing his cloak, he draped it over a nearby chair. He found himself shivering as his eyes roamed over her form. Her shift was hiked up mid thigh, her hip cocked onto one side, she stretched out languidly for him to see.

“Something troubling you?”

She knew something was always troubling him. She _knew_ that so why did she always ask.

Those big eyes always beckoned him to confide in her, to share what weighed on him so heavily, but he never told her anything of use. _She was the enemy._

But that didn’t stop Robb from frequenting her bed. 

He hated this weakness he had for her. He’d sooner caress her cheek than slap it, kiss those lips rather than gag them, she was a prisoner of war yet it was he who felt suffocated by chains, gold plated chains.

His cause was simple, he reminded. His cause was just. 

“You’re quiet,” she protested and leaned forward to sit primly on the edge of the bed. He had to look down at her eyes through thick lashes. He could be blinded by her beauty. He desired her more and more as he campaigned through Westeros. She was a problem from the start and it was only getting worse.

“I don’t want to talk.”

Myrcella shifted and Robb found himself hoping it wasn’t from discomfort. _He shouldn’t care_ , but his instincts were not something he could shake.

Robb took her cheek in hand and guided her to stand. She rose up immediately, her lips snapped to his in a dizzying haste. It was startling.

“You didn’t come to me last night,” she brushed hotly against his lips. 

“I couldn’t,” he at least had the nerve not to stammer when he felt her hands on the tops of his thighs sliding up to hold his waist. 

It was his mother who kept him late the other night, she had reminded him of Roslin Frey and his oath.

Robb slid his palm against her inner thigh in hope to startle her with his touch just as she had to him, but he came out the fool once again. 

“Myrcella,” he hissed her name and pressed into her damp thigh. He was so clumsy, he took her and staggered until had her back against the wall.

She was bold enough to move on her own accord. He’d gotten too soft with her, let her do too much, but he’d be damned if he stopped her. With the way she kissed his neck— Robb clamored for her hair and yanked her back, the small distance he put between them felt like a soft victory.

“No marks,” he said firmly, chest swelling with the control he was taking back. “You left some last time, that can't happen again.” When his squire noticed the ‘bruise’ on his neck Robb felt his shame was visible to all, but gossip had saved him. Everyone in camp thought he was with Jeyne Westerling, she followed his heels so insistently that it was believable.

What wasn’t believable was how he was so weak for his own prisoner. Never lost a battle on the field, but in the bedroom…

Her hands were so soft on his neck where she’d just kissed, her fingers waved and weaved through his hair. This was what always got him, how her eyes connected with his.

“No marks,” she promised and he felt her devotion in her small smile. 

“How will I be able to give you back?” He shivered, a genuine fear he had not meant to let slip out. 

“Don’t,” he had to read her lips she said the word so softly. 

“You can’t be a prisoner forever,” he shook his head at the thought, “no, you’re too bright for that.”

“I’ve been a prisoner my whole life, I much prefer to be in your hands than anyone else’s.”

“My hands…” Robb stroked the curve of her hip, she felt good in his hands… “I’m betrothed to someone.”

“I know,” Myrcella shimmied her shoulders past the light sleeves of her shift and let it drop to the floor, “but right now we’re at war and I don’t want to dance around my feelings.” 

She was braver than he and held more conviction.

Robb kissed her fiercely, his hand rose to feel her heart beating in her chest. “I don’t want to break this,” He panted, “I cant—“ 

“Hush, Robb,” her finger came to his lips, “just stay with me.” 

And for the first time he did, the whole blissful night he had someone to hold, to love. 

••

Dawn broke with panic, the Riverrun halls echoed, Robb’s name hung in the air as he was sought after. He heard the rush of footsteps pound right past the door along with the news he was not yet supposed to hear.

It felt like a whisper through the wall, it didn’t feel real, _Lord Eddard Stark had been executed.  
_

He hugged Myrcella into his chest, crushed his wet cheek into her shoulder so hard he was sure he was hurting her. She didn’t say a word. Just her hand lightly curling over his iron arm.

There was too much hurt in his heart to keep his enemies away now. 


End file.
